


Smol?

by shinyhill



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 04:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5652811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinyhill/pseuds/shinyhill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For pickled_ginger, who wanted Fenris to use the word smol in relation to himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smol?

The Hanged Man was noisy, and Varric’s suite wasn’t much quieter. Wicked Grace night had long since devolved into drinking and tale telling, and Fenris sighed and raised his glass as Isabela started hugging Merrill.

“Kitten!” she yelled, dragging the witch into a hug that involved far too much cleavage. “You’re so smol and adorable!” Fenris rolled his eyes as Merrill struggled to escape Isabela’s cleavage, arms flailing. His ears pricked up as Merrill freed herself and asked Isabela what she meant. Merrill was a good source of answers to the questions Fenris didn’t like to ask. Trade wasn’t his first tongue, or his second – he frowned, sometimes he wondered what number it was. He knew that his family had come from Seheron, that he’d been able to speak Tevene when he woke after the ritual. He wondered idly whether his mother had spoken Elvhen to him…

“Smol?” Isabela laughed. “It’s Rivaini, it means small, but you know, just smoller...” she chortled at her own joke and Fenris tossed back the rest of his drink with a snort. “All of you elves are so cute and smol!”  
“Smol?” Everyone looked up as Fenris spoke, his deep voice somehow cutting through the giggles and drunken laughter. “Did you just call me smol?” Merrill visibly swallowed at the threatening sound as his voice sank a register lower, and he stood, markings glowing, jaw clenched. 

“Oh, Fenris, I’m sure Isabela didn’t mean anything by it. You didn’t, right, Isabela?” Merrill peered pleadingly up at Isabela then back to Fenris, who didn’t relax his threatening stance.

“Come on Fenris, you know you’re smol! You’re only as tall as me!” Isabela laughed again, and shoved a shot glass of whiskey towards him. “Here, have a smol drink.” 

Fenris slammed a fist into the table, making the shot glass tremble and fall, whiskey soaking between the planks of the table and dripping on the floor. Anders chose that moment to walk in, late as always. He walked up behind Fenris, disregarding his tense posture and glowing brands and wrapped him in a hug. Fenris jumped. He had been so intent on giving Bela a scare that he hadn’t even heard the mage walk up to him. The very tall mage. He grumbled as Anders dropped a kiss on top of his head. 

“See!” Isabela chortled. “Smol!” Fenris snorted and dropped back into his seat, looking gloomily at the wasted whisky. 

“The mage is a giant,” he grumbled. Anders laughed and mussed his hair before sitting and dragging Fenris onto his lap. Fenris glared at the others, his scowl somehow managing to take in the entire table. “Not a word, pirate,” he said, as he snuggled into his mage’s feathers. “Not a word.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my writing, please feel free to bribe me for more by donating towards a cup of coffee! https://ko-fi.com/A20836M (also please feel free to request anything at my tumblr - shinyhill.tumblr.com!


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